


Incentive

by agentverbivore (verbivore8642)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 2x10 compliant except for one obvious exception, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Future Fic, Jemma's POV, Laser Tag, Making Out, Near Future, Team Bonding, every otp should have a laser tag AU, nothing is ever sad in laser tag AUs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3411941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbivore8642/pseuds/agentverbivore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team plays laser tag to destress, and Jemma can't quite take her eyes off of Fitz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incentive

**Author's Note:**

> There is legit no excuse for this other than that it should really be how this happens on the show - just saying.
> 
> Takes place a few months after 2x10.
> 
> Unedited.
> 
> Inspired by [this prompt](http://verbivore8642.tumblr.com/post/111305513673/iceriver4886-okay-so-imagine-your-otp-playing) on tumblr.

Team laser tag would not have been Jemma’s first choice for an agency bonding activity, particularly since most of their opponents were trained specialists whose lives were dedicated to this particular set of skills. Yet here they were, having bought out the nearest laser tag facility for the night. Since Skye had requested it for her birthday, it wasn’t a surprise that Coulson had caved; everyone was loathe to refuse her anything, considering the year she’d had. The year they’d all had, really. 

But Jemma suspected that Skye had an ulterior motive (or five) in insisting on choosing the teams of three herself, particularly when she assigned Jemma to Fitz and Trip’s team. Skye had just shrugged and gone on to assign Mack and probably-Sam Koenig to her own team, ignoring Jemma’s piercing look and shooing away Hunter’s complaints that he was the only specialist on his team. (Jemma considered making a droll remark about whether or not a mercenary could _actually_  be considered a specialist, but thought better of it.)

The first three rounds had been a wash, with the Skye-christened “BioMedTechies” coming in at an embarrassing fourth place. Predictably, this didn’t much bother Trip, despite the fact that, like Hunter, he was the only specialist on their team. He just laughed uproariously every time the cheesy target noises went off anywhere near him, and assured Fitz that they had plenty of rounds to bounce back.

Losing didn’t sit well with Jemma. She was long since resigned to never being anywhere close to a specialist’s level of skills, but she’d been competitive ever since she could remember and being in almost-last-place was getting under skin. Much to her amusement, though, it _really_ seemed to be getting to Fitz. He’d been so much better around her in recent weeks, able to meet her eyes for more than five seconds at a time and even venturing back into the lab occasionally. Giving him space was not one of the easier things Jemma had ever done, but it was necessary, and it seemed to be paying off. 

Tonight, he was treating her exactly as he would have a decade ago, everything else focused on trying to improve their score, despite the astronomical odds against them being able to do so. (Particularly because Trip – who was extremely good at his actual job – seemed to be far more interested in finding and shooting at Skye rather than increasing their point count.)

Jemma and Fitz had decided in the short term that sticking together might give them an edge – and, if they were lucky, they’d be able to gang up on probably-Sam. Fitz led the way along an outer edge of the laser tag course, clunky plastic gun held at the ready and cumbersome vest bumping against the wall. Someone moved to their left and he froze, flinging an arm out to stop her movement; all this did was cause her to bump into him and let out a noise that was a cross between a snort and a laugh.

The look he gave her was one of exasperation, eyes dark in the UV-lit room, and she couldn’t quite help the fluttering in her stomach or the way she automatically drew her bottom lip between her teeth. His gaze flickered down to her mouth but shifted away just as quickly, his next few steps more halted as he reset the distance between them. A sliver of embarrassment worked its way into her chest, and she ducked her head, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and feeling enormously relieved that it was too dark for anyone to see the flush now certainly visible in her cheeks.

A volley of artificial fire burst into life at the opposite end of the room, distracting them from their surroundings, and the purple lights flashing across Fitz’s face drew Jemma’s attention again. His stubble brought out the curve of his jaw, brows furrowed as he peered into the darkness to look for nearby attackers, and she took in a slow breath. Parsing out her feelings towards him had taken a long time, but she’d decided last week to pursue the rollercoaster – with caution, maybe, but pursue it nonetheless. She just didn’t know how to bring it up with Fitz, or even if he was still interested.

“Alright Simmons, if that passage is clear we can take it all the way to the back wall. I think I saw Hunter sneak that way. You copy?”

Jemma stifled a laugh. “Aye-aye, Captain.” 

He turned just long enough to glare at her. “If you keep not taking this seriously –” 

“It’s a _game_ , Fitz!” 

“– Then we’re definitely going to lose –” 

“Against some of the world’s most well-trained field operatives, what a shock –”

“And you’ll owe me and Trip pancakes for the next week.”

Her mouth already open for another comeback, she stopped short, watching his lips twitch up into a small smile. Letting out an amused huff, she swept loose hair out of her face. “‘Trip and I,’” she teased, biting her lip again when he rolled his eyes and continued forward. 

Excitement pinged through her chest as she followed him, holding her ungainly weapon as steady as possible. Were they _flirting_? Had he just flirted back? Or was that just their normal banter, and was she just imagining that different subtext? Did she want it to be flirting? _Probably, almost definitely yes_ , she thought, and tried not to feel nervous about that. 

Imitating Fitz’s crouch, Jemma followed him through the tunnel, pleased with how well their strategy seemed to be working this round – until a loud electronic noise sounded from her vest, blue LEDs flashing in a circular pattern to signal that someone had shot her. As she spun around, searching for her attacker, a strong hand wrapped around her forearm and tugged her backwards, around the other side of one of the padded obstacle walls. Fitz stood against her, one arm supporting him as he carefully peeked around the other side without exposing any part of his vest. Jemma, on the other hand, had completely forgotten about whoever was tailing them and was focused on how close he was standing. They weren’t touching, not quite, but she could feel warmth radiating from his hand next to her shoulder.

“Must’ve been up on the catwalk,” he muttered, breath feathering the ends of her hair as he dropped his gaze to hers. 

“Right,” she managed to force out, drawing in a quick breath and watching his eyes widen once he realized how close they were standing. Her eyes dropped to his lips, his tongue darted out to moisten them as she stared, and her pulse started pounding loudly in her ears. In all their years of friendship, she’d never really noticed the aesthetically pleasing shape of his mouth, or its particularly appealing shade of pink. Without really thinking about it, Jemma stretched up, very intent on finding out exactly what it would be like to kiss her best friend.

Before she’d moved more than a few millimeters, though, he twisted his head away, inhaling sharply and clearing his throat. “I think it’s clear, now – we should move if we don’t want to get caught again.”

“Right,” she muttered, trying to ignore the clench of embarrassment in the pit of her stomach. He probably hadn’t even noticed, and, besides, kissing him suddenly without having a conversation first was probably a terrible idea – no matter how intriguing she may find it at this moment.

They slid along the wall towards a partially enclosed area in the corner, and Jemma did a truly excellent job at not noticing the curve of Fitz’s arse as it was lit by colorful, flashing lights. As she turned to scan the area behind them, she wondered if this was how he had felt before the pod – attracted to her but also somewhat embarrassed by it, wanting more but not sure if he should. His behavior in those last few months (normal enough to ignore, startlingly different now that she knew) suddenly made a lot more sense, and she had to fight a strong urge to give him an empathetic hug.

She shook her head to focus on her current task, and caught a glimpse of someone ducking behind a wall to their right. “Fitz –”

Just as he turned, fake gunshots rang through the air from three directions and they both ducked automatically, no matter that the shots themselves consisted of little more than electronic signals. Fitz grabbed her hand as they sprinted behind the nearest padded wall, and Jemma found herself laughing breathlessly as he pushed her to “safety.”

“We are absolute _rubbish_ at this game,” she managed to squeeze out between giggles, and after a moment he began to laugh, too.

“S’not our fault they have the advantage,” he chuckled, unable to keep his complaint serious. When Jemma looked up, though, she sucked in a breath at the position in which they’d found themselves again. Fitz was standing centimeters from her, both hands now supporting his weight on either side of her shoulders as he’d apparently dropped his gun when they dove for shelter. He was still smiling, breathing a little heavily from their brief sprint, and this time she didn’t stop herself from closing the distance between their lips. 

Her better judgment roared to life instantly as he froze against her, and, desperate to keep him from pulling away, Jemma leaned in further, brushing her lips against his and reaching up to cup his jaw in one hand. _Please_ , she thought to herself, _please understand_. Painful memories from her first few weeks back from Hydra resurfaced, of him flinching from her touch and not being able to meet her gaze, and she was almost consumed by the fear that he’d do either of those things now. Having finally worked up the courage to kiss him (or, rather, allowed herself to get carried away in this stupid game), she couldn’t bear it if he pulled away now.

Finally, after far too long, Fitz tilted his head to slant his mouth properly against hers, leaning forward to press her against the scratchy, padded wall. A noise of surprise escaped her throat, but then his fingers were pressed against the back of her neck and his lips were making her dizzy, and she wasn’t sure why it had taken her so long to do this. He moved his mouth against hers slowly, heatedly, the friction sending sparks of excitement shooting down her spine, and she wondered how he was so good at this – she couldn’t remember him dating anyone at the Academy. Maybe he’d just thought about her this way long enough that it translated well to reality (or she owed some mysterious Academy pseudo-prodigy a muffin basket).

The plastic from their vests clanked awkwardly together, and Fitz grumbled, pulling back just enough to undo the straps and toss the cumbersome item away. Jemma quickly followed suit, reaching out to pull him flush against her as soon as the nuisance was gone. Their mouths met in the middle and someone whimpered but neither of them would ever admit to it if asked. His chest was warm and solid against hers, and although she fought against her urge to find a way to alleviate the ache between her legs, she didn’t stop herself from using one arm to hold his hips against hers. 

A small groan reverberated in the back of his throat when she licked over his bottom lip and into his mouth, and she fisted her hands into the soft wool of his jumper, her whole body spinning with energy and want. Dimly, she remembered that there were people waiting around the other side of this artificial barrier to attack them with fake guns, but for the moment she didn’t care at all what they thought. Fitz’s tongue was making obscene promises as it slid over and under hers and there was little left in her brain other than to hold onto him as tightly as possible.

When he pulled away, she leaned blindly forward to follow his lips and then blushed, dropping back and opening her eyes. The way he stared down at her, mouth hanging open and eyes hooded, made her want to kiss him again, but he swallowed as if he had something to say. So, instead, she gave him a sheepish smile and waited, keeping her arms around him.  

“What – what the _hell_ , Jemma?” That was not what she’d expected, although she probably deserved the tinge of sadness to his voice.

“Was that not... did you not want...” Terrified that if she let go he would withdraw, Jemma just nodded her head between them, feeling supremely awkward and that she would much rather just be kissing again. 

“You...” He dropped his gaze from hers, and she held on tighter. “Y’know I do. But you don’t, you left, and we’ve been, um, b-better recently, and I don’t –” She silenced him by pressing her lips to his again, and her chest clenched when she saw the wet shine to his eyes as he pulled back a few moments later. “I don't - um, don’t understand, Jemma.”

“I – I’ve _tried_ telling you, Fitz, I didn’t leave because I wanted to, or because of how I didn’t feel! I didn’t know,” she whispered, feeling excited, nervous, and relieved all at once. “I wanted to wait until I knew.” 

“And now you know,” he said, tone more than a little skeptical.

“I know that I want to know. And I can’t figure that out without you.” Jemma swallowed, tangling her fingers further into the bunched-up wool. “If you’ve... changed your mind, though, I understand. It’s been a – a long time.”

“I’ll never change my mind about you.” His voice was quiet, barely audible underneath a new burst of gunfire from elsewhere in the course, but certain, and she couldn’t quite stop the smile that started to spread across her face. “But I’m – I’m not the same, Jemma, I’m not better. I’m not, um, good enough to –”

“Bullshit,” she interrupted, her brief moment of elation squashed by her anger. “That’s _bullshit_ , and if you ever try to tell me that you’re ‘not good enough’ for anything again I’ll slap you.” Confident that she had his attention, she shifted her arms to pull him closer again, spreading the fingers of one hand out against his back. “You’ve made amazing improvement after what Ward did to you – you can only see it from the inside, I know, but I see it every day. And so does Mack, for what that’s worth. You’re different on the outside, maybe, in the ways that you work or interact with other people, but you’re still _you_. You’re – you’re Fitz,” she said, voice breaking. “You’re my Fitz, my best friend, and I just want you to be exactly who you are.”

Jemma inhaled, breathing out through her nose to hold back the well of nerves that threatened to break through. He watched her carefully, eyes inscrutable in the darkness, then shifted his gaze away, and a part of her felt like crying at his silence. The last time she could remember wanting something so much was when she waited by his comatose side for nine days, praying to every god she could remember reading about that he would come back.

Unable to wait anymore, brimming with nervous energy, she tilted her head to find his gaze. “I’d like to try this – us. Kissing, and – and things. If you do. I want to. I’ve been thinking about it - a lot, actually - and I’d never really noticed quite how symmetrical your face is or how much I like your eyes, and I think that we could –”

She knew she was rambling, she knew it but couldn’t quite stop once she got going, anxiety twisting unevenly in her stomach and fueling her words. So when Fitz leaned forward to kiss her again, she let out a low sigh of relief, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck as he pulled her to him by her waist.

His lips were gentler this time, searching, testing her reactions, as if before had been a fever dream and now he was fully aware of what they were doing, and somehow this just made her more lightheaded. Her mouth opened willingly at the first brush of his tongue and his breath hitched, fingers flexing against her back. Fitz was warm and solid and all around her, pressing her firmly against the wall as one leg pushed between hers, and he groaned when she slid her tongue along the seam of his lips.

As he broke away from her mouth, dropping heated kisses along her jaw and down her neck, she whimpered, shivering as his thigh unintentionally pressed against her just so and made her cheeks flush. Just as Fitz reached her pulse point, though, a tremor ran through his left arm where it was holding her and he stiffened, mouth forming a thin line as he leaned his face against her cheek and removed his hand from her lower back. Desperately not wanting to stop, Jemma reached around to bring his hand up, tangling their fingers as she pressed their palms together over her head, encouraging him to lean his weight against her hand and against her. That done, she stretched up once more to capture his lips, pressing in over and over again until he responded, fingers tightening and body relaxing against hers. The rough material of the padded wall scratched against the back of her hand, but Jemma couldn’t care less; she was far too busy cataloguing the tense-and-release of his fingers in between hers and the way his hips rolled forward seemingly unconsciously when she arched her back. Breathing roughly, he slid his lips just below her ear and nipped at the sensitive skin there, and she only just caught her moan as he licked away the sting.

The realization that she was snogging – very intimately snogging – her best friend in a public place hit her without warning, and she couldn’t help the large grin that broke across her face. Panting slightly, she threaded her other hand through his hair to move him back just enough that she could meet his eyes. The dazed confusion left his face as soon as he registered the happiness on hers, and he smiled just as widely. 

“Hi,” she whispered, and he laughed, letting go of her hand to smooth his knuckles along her jaw.

“Hi yourself.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she realized that she was nibbling at the bottom lip again. He brushed the pad of his thumb along her lip, sliding smoothly over the moist, swollen skin, and she inhaled sharply, drawing his attention back up to her eyes as she wondered how inappropriate it would be to suggest sneaking into the locker room.

“Aw, _hell_ no,” came a familiar voice from behind Fitz, and they stumbled apart to see Trip staring at them with a distinctly dismayed expression on his face. “I owe Skye fifty bucks. _And_ you’re the worst teammates ever, leaving me alone out there.” He reached down to grab one of their vests off the floor. “Seriously?”

They mumbled awkward apologies and picked up their gear, suiting up while Trip kept watch. Despite the warmth in her cheeks, Jemma couldn’t stop herself from smiling, or from catching Fitz’s eye as he buckled himself into his vest. She thought briefly about offering to help, just because she wanted to be touching him again, but she quickly realized he’d think it was because she believed him to be incapable and that was the very last message she wanted to convey. Instead, she settled for watching his fingers do up the last of the fasteners, ducking away when he caught her staring. 

“Want some help?” Fitz teased, eyeing the undone half of her own vest, and she shook her head. 

“No, no, I – I just –” She stammered over an excuse for why she’d completely forgotten what she was doing, but he smiled and her hands twitched forward, wanting nothing more than to be holding him again. 

“Look, I’m crazy happy for you two, but can you at least hold out until we finish the round? If we can’t at least beat Hunter’s team I’ll never forgive either of you.”

Fitz chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifted his attention away from Jemma and picked up his dropped gun. “Sorry – what’re our orders?”

Trip quickly outlined his plan as Jemma finished securing her vest, and, after grinning briefly back at them, he stalked off into the shadows between UV light bulbs and flashing LEDs. When she made to follow him, though, Fitz tugged her back behind the wall.

“When we get back tonight, we’re not, um, we’re not just... gonna forget, are we? About that?” The worry weighing down his furrowed brows twisted Jemma’s stomach, and she balanced up on her tiptoes to give him a brief, sweet kiss.

“Of _course_ not, Fitz,” she said, letting her lips quirk up as his eyes cleared. “I – I’d like to maybe continue it. Later. If you’d like.”

The grin that lit up his face was eager and boyish, despite the maturity added to his appearance by his scruff, but it faltered quickly. “We still need to talk.” His voice was quiet, almost regretful. “There’s, um, a lot – with you leaving, and I'm still –”

“Yes,” she interrupted, threading their fingers together. “We do, and we can talk as much or as little as you want. I can’t promise to be very good at it – unless it’s about science. I’m very good at talking about that. But I’ll try anyway. The other talking. I want to try.” She cringed, squeezing his hand and wishing that she’d paid more attention during those romantic comedies Skye always wanted to re-watch. There wasn’t usually this much stammering after the main couple kissed in those.

Fitz, however, just gave her a relieved nod, proving once again that she’d made the right choice back at the Academy all those years ago. “Yeah, we’ll both try. I’ve been practicing.” He winced slightly at that, but it passed before she could parse it out. “Maybe with, um, the kissing as – as incentive,” he said, stumbling over the words but grinning anyway.

Nodding, Jemma ignored the warmth flushing her cheeks. “Yes, incentive. Good plan, Fitz.” An idea popped into her head, and although it felt patently ridiculous, it was too appealing to resist. Glancing around to make sure that Trip was, in fact, no where to be seen, she leaned forward until their plastic vests touched. “So, what’s my incentive for finishing this game?” She thought that her smile was maybe a shade more bashful than seductive, but either that worked for Fitz or he didn’t notice because not two seconds later he tugged her against him and pressed his lips to hers. 

They were both smiling into the kiss when it started, but it didn’t take long for Jemma to completely melt back into him. Her vest dug uncomfortably into her shoulders, but he slid his free hand up the back of her blouse and all of her attention was suddenly focused on this _thing_ he did with his tongue that made her knees buckle. Two could play at that game, though, so she hooked one leg around his and pressed against his hips in a way that was really, totally, entirely not fair – and succeeded in eliciting the gasp for which she’d hoped. His lips faltered against hers, and she grinned.

“Good incentive?” She pulled away to catch his eyes, aware that they were yet again abandoning Trip and should probably get moving. All he could muster was a low grunt, and she giggled (yes, actually _giggled_ , much to her bemusement), feeling like she’d just won something.

Before they could separate properly, fake shots erupted from behind them, along with Hunter’s triumphant shout of “I’ve got them, I’ve got them!” Both of their vests started going off loudly, and Jemma turned to see Hunter standing a few feet away and aiming his gun directly at them, effectively draining the scant points they’d managed to collect.

Seconds later, Trip ran towards Hunter, shooting his gun until he saw the way Jemma was wrapped around Fitz. “Oh _come on_ ,” he groaned, throwing up one hand in exasperation.

A loud cackling sounded from their left, and Jemma narrowed her eyes at the sight of Skye bent in half with one fist punching the air in victory. “This is your fault, isn’t it?”

Struggling to take in breaths, Skye managed to stand up straight and somehow look mischievous while still laughing. “Hell yes,” she squeezed out, and then shifted her gaze to Fitz. “Lucky for you Simmons can’t resist tact gear.”

Jemma grinned at the way Fitz’s expression immediately changed from one of embarrassment to that adorable squint he did whenever he was about to correct someone. “But I’m not wearing tactical –”

Prodding him in the side, Jemma drew his attention back to her. “Aside from the cumbersome plastic parts, it’s not wholly dissimilar,” she whispered, enjoying the way his eyes widened.

Somewhere behind them, Trip and Hunter were arguing about fair play, but she was busy watching the gears turn in Fitz’s head as he decided what to do with that new information, licking his lips and cocking an eyebrow. “Incentive?”

She laughed, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “Alright,” she murmured, “incentive.” Noting that Skye’s attention was now elsewhere, she leaned in closer to Fitz, intentionally trying look like they were getting distracted again. “I’ll take my wayward countryman if you get Skye.”

Grinning, Fitz nodded and pressed a brief kiss to her temple, mimicking her teasing remark from earlier. “Aye-aye, Captain. On the count of three –”

“Two –” Jemma shifted her hand so she had a better grip on her gun.

“One!”

They spun around in unison, fingers held firmly down on their respective triggers as they caught their complacent enemies by surprise, managing to severely drain the others’ point counts as they scrambled to fight back.

Trip whooped in excitement, using his own gun to help Fitz knock down Skye’s ludicrously high score. “Love my scientists!”

“Our scientists,” Skye gritted out, choosing to focus on counteracting Trip’s attack rather than Fitz’s. “And that’s gotta be cheating –”

“All’s fair in lo–”

Jemma elbowed Fitz before he could finish, shaking her head at Hunter’s incessant, enthusiastic swearing. “Fitz, you can come up with a better comeback than that,” she called out over the loud alarm that signaled the end of the game.

He let out a high noise of indignation at her joke, letting his gun drop to his side. “Oh, fine, then, let’s see what you’ve –” But he never did get to finish, because she used his vest to pull him forward for another kiss, to a mixed chorus of “ews” and “awws.” When she withdrew her lips from his, he nodded, blinking his eyes open over a slow swallow. “Right, well done, much better.”

Jemma threaded her fingers through Fitz’s as they followed the others to the entrance, squeezing firmly as she felt a tremor run up through his arm. They had a lot of work to do, but if most of their nights were like this one, she thought that the rollercoaster would definitely be worth it.


End file.
